They looked up at him with small, black eyes, supplicants seeking salvation. He didn't have salvation for them, just a kind of freedom. He pushed a button and a silent current of gas, thicker and heavier than air, reflecting light strangely, flowed into the lexan chamber. The small black eyes bulged for a few seconds and began to glaze.
It's very frustrating to be in such a mood that you do not feel anything, except perhaps frustration, and affection, and small things. My conciousness is once removed from my unconcious and my body. Everything is filtered and viewed at a great distance. The only real thing I can feel is a sort of anger so undirected and all encompassing that I can only really describe it as basic agression. I could, conceivably, destroy the world on a whim in this mood, though a recent conversation with a friend leads me to beleive that I would not do such a thing, no matter how I was sorely pressed.
And now a great and crushing weight returns, and everything feels so heavy. I am fairly certain that this is nothing but chemicals acting in my body. This feeling was not caused by things external to myself. It is nonsense, a meaningless sensation of depression and lethargy. I could, perhaps, shake it off with effort, though I am not sure that I wish to do so. It is difficult to wish to do anything at the moment. It is difficult to feel anything at the moment. It is rather annoying and unpleasent.
I feel terrible. Relentlessly hopeless and sad. I am attempting to change my state of mind to anger, and perhaps then to something else.
I hate talking to people when I feel like this. I know they're my friends and that they genuinely want to help but I also know that I am relentlessly negative when I feel like this and that I can make most people feel very miserable just by uttering forth my observations on the world when I feel this bad. I can weave a spell of misery and discontent and melancholy that can infect others. I hate doing that. I don't like being around people when I feel like this, as a result. They'll see how bad I feel unless I put all of my effort into making my body into a mask and even then those who know me can usually see that something is wrong. They ask if there is anything wrong, and I tell them 'Yes, I am depressed. I am miserable. I am filled with ennui and listlessness alternating with a deep misery that fills me.' and they say 'How can I help' and it is everything I can do to keep myself from screaming 'Nothing'. I don't think they can help. And I don't want to make them miserable. So I generally avoid them and endure in silence, alone.
It's very frustrating to be in such a mood that you do not feel anything, except perhaps frustration, and affection, and small things. My conciousness is once removed from my unconcious and my body. Everything is filtered and viewed at a great distance. The only real thing I can feel is a sort of anger so undirected and all encompassing that I can only really describe it as basic agression. I could, conceivably, destroy the world on a whim in this mood, though a recent conversation with a friend leads me to beleive that I would not do such a thing, no matter how I was sorely pressed.
And now a great and crushing weight returns, and everything feels so heavy. I am fairly certain that this is nothing but chemicals acting in my body. This feeling was not caused by things external to myself. It is nonsense, a meaningless sensation of depression and lethargy. I could, perhaps, shake it off with effort, though I am not sure that I wish to do so. It is difficult to wish to do anything at the moment. It is difficult to feel anything at the moment. It is rather annoying and unpleasent.
I feel terrible. Relentlessly hopeless and sad. I am attempting to change my state of mind to anger, and perhaps then to something else.
I hate talking to people when I feel like this. I know they're my friends and that they genuinely want to help but I also know that I am relentlessly negative when I feel like this and that I can make most people feel very miserable just by uttering forth my observations on the world when I feel this bad. I can weave a spell of misery and discontent and melancholy that can infect others. I hate doing that. I don't like being around people when I feel like this, as a result. They'll see how bad I feel unless I put all of my effort into making my body into a mask and even then those who know me can usually see that something is wrong. They ask if there is anything wrong, and I tell them 'Yes, I am depressed. I am miserable. I am filled with ennui and listlessness alternating with a deep misery that fills me.' and they say 'How can I help' and it is everything I can do to keep myself from screaming 'Nothing'. I don't think they can help. And I don't want to make them miserable. So I generally avoid them and endure in silence, alone.
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and hugs.